


Rites of Movement

by amidalaas (naberiie)



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Clothed Sex, Couch Sex, F/M, Frottage, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Quiet Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-08 00:24:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19095976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naberiie/pseuds/amidalaas
Summary: Unable to sleep post-Gala, Rabé lets herself imagine how ARC trooper Fives would look at her, touch her, taste her... and how sweet it is indeed when that fantasy becomes reality.





	Rites of Movement

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in the FWS universe; a universe where these two recognize their feelings and actually act on them much sooner than they do in that fic. An AU of an AU.
> 
> Context for those who haven't read it: A group of the 501st teams up with the Naboo handmaidens to track down and take out a spy in Queen Breha's courts on Alderaan. Fives and Rabé are hopelessly into each other.
> 
> Felt like writing some porn - first 'long' length smut, which explains the simple tags. I'll add more if I think of 'em!

Rabé glanced at the chrono again. It was nearly five in the morning, the sun was beginning to peek over the mountains on the horizon, and she had not slept since the Gala had ended – or, more accurately, since she’d retired from the party that was still going strong when she’d left nearly two hours before. She, Kix, Hardcase, and Fives had finished off the wine she’d snuck back to their rooms, loudly complaining about everything, laughing and relaxing as they had not been able to during the Gala. Kix – tie angrily undone, sleeves rolled up his arms – had raked the dimwitted Lord Varol over the coals for the better part of thirty minutes, gesticulating so wildly more wine landed on the balcony than made it into his mouth. Rabé had not been able to see through the tears in her eyes, her stomach heaving with laughter as she simply sat and watched and listened to the three men – her guardians, her friends – drag every puffed-up noble with cutting wit and creative insults.

After an hour, they’d filtered away to their separate rooms, but sleep would not come for Rabé. Instead, she paced, trying to keep up with her racing thoughts, her restless blood. The stars faded in the distance, and soon – far too soon – pale light crept over the ridge of the mountains that lined the horizon. She taken the pins and diadem out of her hair, brushed it as she moved, but without Sabé there to ease her thoughts, Rabé knew sleep was very far away.

She had only drunk the wine she brought back to their rooms, but the pressure all around her, the lies of the evening, no sleep and countless dances, they were beginning to take their toll. She’d take Veecee’s afterparty meds and return to her room, curl up on top of the duvet until the chill of the dawn air would force her under the plush covers.

And it did not help that her thoughts kept returning to Fives.

She’d had to stop herself from kissing him one – two – _three_ – she didn’t know how many times throughout the evening. After her second drink the thought she’d been vehemently pushing down all week rose gently, softly, to the surface of her mind, underpinning every conversation: dancing with him, feeling his body against hers, his warmth radiating off of him – Rabé couldn’t help but linger on what it would feel like, if he pressed his body up against hers, if he kissed her, if he snuck his hands up underneath the wide skirts of her gown…

She swallowed, hard, her cheeks warm and a deliciously forbidden warm _tightness_ growing in her gut.

She ran one hand up the thick tight corseting of the body of the gown, and closed her eyes to pretend it was Fives’ hand – she lingered, soft and light as dawn’s first glimmer, over the gentle swell of her breast. She ran her fingers over the edge of the fabric, with her-hand-that-was-Fives’, touching the soft smooth skin and wondering what he would do first.

Rabé’s thighs squeezed together, almost involuntarily, and she realized with a hitch in her breath just how wet she was already – in her mind, Fives was grinning as he realized it, too, realized just how badly she wanted him, how badly she wanted him to tear off this gown and fuck her until she was senseless, loose and languid from pleasure on top of him.

She was on her bed before she even registered it, stuffing one of the thick plush pillows between her legs, bunching up the thick sheets and – because she knew, she _knew_ the sight would drive him wild – taking care to arrange her skirts before she start to grind her hips down, eyes closed even now, slipping one hand under those skirts and shivering with pleasure at the warmth that met her.

She started slow. Gently rubbing herself, gently moving her hips – but her breath was already hitching.

_You enjoyin’ this then, my Lady?_ Fives asked in a husky low voice, drawing his hands up and down her thighs, one hand ghosting over the soaked fabric of her underwear.

_Looks like you are, too, my Captain_ , she answered, rutting her hips down lightly on top of his groin. He groaned in pleasure at the sensation of her weight on top of his hips, feeling the length of his shaft through her ruined underwear.

They were undercover – why not make it that much more illicit? A noblewoman and her Captain after the Gala, happy and animated and _warm_ from a long Gala, falling into bed together…

In her mind’s eye, Fives watched her with a heady kind of animalistic desire that swam through her bloodstream as she ground on the pillows, on her hand. He’d bend his knees to give her a better angle, and when she gave a muffled whine of pleasure he’d grin ferociously at her, grabbing her hips and helping her along – not just helping, _guiding_ , doing the work for her – grinding her down onto his hips – he would start pushing up to meet her, and she whined again, imagining what it would feel like as he thrust up, what it would feel like to have his cock between her thighs…

Rabé muffled her moans as she fells forward, biting the pillow but imagining it was Fives as she worked herself harder, faster, closer to the edge – she slipped in a third finger and the pool of heat in her gut shimmered with thick heady pleasure, _goddess and stars but it felt so good to finally give in_ , she was rushing it but who could blame her, when all she wanted was the man next door-

Her back arched and she bit down on the sheets as she spasmed, as her legs twitched as her hips moved forward and squeezed her fingers, as she felt the mess she was making on the linens – she could barely keep her keening in her throat and shivered as she came for what felt like an eternity, rocking her hips all the while, imagining she was riding Fives, imagining it was his cock inside of her, not her own fingers, imagined the look on his face as she came on his cock – the way he’d fuck her through the orgasm, not letting her come down until _he_ said so-

She collapsed on top of her mess, panting, sweating, shaking – in her mind, Fives smiled, reached up to wipe the hair from her sweaty forehead – as she came down in jerks, her lungs and blood on fire as the pleasure sped through every nerve of her body.

A door opened in the other room.

Rabé froze.

A door softly opened in the distance, and her first thought was of Veecee, the servitor droid assigned to their suites; perhaps he was beginning to set up their breakfast – though it was expected that hardly anyone in the palace would rise before noon.

She lay on top of the bed, trying to keep as quiet as possible, because the last thing she wanted was Veecee asking if she wanted anything.

_Perhaps he’s brought caf, or hangover meds._  

Her fingers brushed the metal of her door when another part of her mind whispered, _it might not be Veecee._

She froze and stared at the door, her breath stalling her lungs as she tried to listen for the faint whir of machinery, for the strange half-steps of a droid. It was quiet, beyond the door. No steps, no breaths, no movement – but she  _had_  heard a door open. Outside, the breeze danced across the lake, shuddered the snow from the ancient pines below their balcony.

It took her – she didn’t know how long – to peel herself up from the ruined sheets and pillows – wet from her pleasure, dislodged and crumpled from where she’d grabbed fistfuls of it – she rose up from the bed, heart pounding, still shaking, hair a true mess, slipping off the bed and rearranging her skirts to grab the meds from Veecee and then pass out for the next seven, eight hours.

_But what if it’s not Veecee._

It had to be – the others were asleep.

_Gods._

They’d _better_ be asleep.

She didn’t think she’d be able to face any of them if she thought they might have heard her-

She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts – _what if Fives was awake, what if he heard, what if he realized what you were doing what if he started to-_

_Make a plan._

Her head was starting to ache.

It was probably Veecee – and she wanted those afterparty meds, she should have taken off the gown hours ago, as soon as she’d been able – and if it was, she’d quietly accept the meds and slip back to her room, without so much as glancing at the other door, without so much as thinking that she’d just masturbated to the thought of her mission partner fucking her senseless.

_It’s probably Veecee._

She opened the door, and there was no droid in sight.

He was sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees, a half-filled glass of water forgotten in his hand, head bowed like a man in prayer in the pale light of the rising sun.

Rabé gulped, and tried not to think of the crumpled, wet mess she’d made of her bed because she’d thought of _him._

She shut the door.

Fives glanced up at the sound of her door and for a moment all bravery fled. She felt completely foolish – she was still dressed in her gown, despite having been back for nearly an hour. He was frowning slightly, his mouth slightly open with the half-formed question of  _why’re you still dressed_ – could he see that she was flushed and flustered and twitching – but for a moment, it was as if the very marble itself was holding its breath. She leaned against the door, and they simply looked at each other. She found herself completely and entirely without words. The curtains behind him stilled, the breeze died down, and slowly – Fives held her gaze. He was confused – and her bravery returned.

She moved.

Before he could ask what was wrong, she’d crossed the room, holding his gaze like a precious jewel, like a warm ember. Her heart was steady. He watched her movements, still confused, a frown still knitting his eyebrows together. Rabé did not pause, even as she came to stand before him – she did not stop, because now that she was moving she did not want to stop, did not  _ever_  want to stop moving, until she was as close to him as she could possibly be.

His eyes were unreadable as he watched her approach, but his body inexplicably seemed to open to welcome hers, leaning back, moving the glass away, his eyes never leaving hers even as she came to stand before him, his knees brushing against the fabric of her gown – and still she moved closer.

To this day, she was not sure which had happened first.

Fives was like to say it was more of “Everything, all at once” type of situation. (His grin would become lopsided, his eyes would  _almost_  glaze over at the memory – until a furiously blushing Rabé would drag him back to the present.)

(When she’d finally admitted to why she’d been up already, why she was flushing, the look on his face told her she’d just given him better material for when they were apart than he could have ever asked for.)

(He told her it was one of his favorite things to imagine. Her, in her gown, fucking herself at the thought of him between her legs.)

Her mind had been made up as soon as soon as she had opened her door.

For a moment, she could almost laugh at herself – she’d just masturbated to the thought of him, so sure it was impossible, and now…

“Fives.” Asking permission. The intent, the desire, was clear in her eyes.

An expression of delight rolled across his face and he looked up at her, shivered, “ _Rabé.”_

_Granted, granted, granted._

She gathered her skirts with one hand and – without breaking stride, moving as gracefully as if she were once more getting ready to dance – she fell into his lap, into his stunned embrace.

He barely had time to register the weight of her body on his hips before she’d crashed to meet his lips – he quietly exclaimed in surprise but then that breath turned into a moan, a breathy exaltation into her mouth and her lips parted to receive it like a blessing.

He hesitated for only a moment – to make sure it was real, that it wasn’t a sweet dream – before he kissed her back, hungrily, as eager as she.

Her body moved of its own accord now, as she pushed hard and he pushed back even harder, both of them hungry, both of them desperate; his hands around the back of her neck, at the small of her back, his glass dropped to the floor and was immediately forgotten, neither one coming up for air as her hips started to shift, to rut against his, and the sounds he made under her movements near drove her mad.

His rough hands yanked her skirts up until her thighs were laid bare to him; he stroked her soft skin without stopping the kiss and then he started to help her, to drive her hips forward in a rising, frantic pace. Her blood crackled with electricity as Fives’ hands danced up her thighs and around to grip her, to hold her tight against his chest.

She felt him stir between her legs and his tongue slipped into her mouth as her hands slid down his body, his muscles tight under her fingers, as she found the waist of his pants and tugged them out of the way. Her fingers traced over the defined lines of his hips as she felt his thighs tense underneath her, and she kissed him so hard that Fives let his head roll back against the edge of the couch.

Fives nearly bucked when he was freed, but he yanked her underwear out of the way, both of their hands scrambling and working blindly under the layers of her gown. She didn’t care that Kix and Hardcase were sleeping soundly in the next room over; in fact, she’d quite forgotten that anyone else in the universe existed, except that man between her legs.

He shivered and gasped at her wetness, dragging his fingers lightly up and down her opening, and Rabé nearly cried in delight when she realized her fantasy was already – deliciously – coming true. She rutted down on his shaft, rolling her hips against him, coating him in her slick wetness, and he kissed her harder, deeper, more desperately as she easily guided him inside.

The look in his eyes as she took his entire length, to the hilt, was better than she could have ever imagined. For a moment, he was still, staring up at her in wonder.

And then she moved.

And his eyes closed, his head lolled against the back of the couch, and his hips rose with hers, not letting her get away, not even more a moment.

He moved like the sea beneath her.

He rose up to meet her as she gripped the back of the couch, as he sunk down to give her a better angle, as the kiss eventually broke apart into shattered breaths, legs and lungs shaking, their faces pressed into each other’s bodies as they struggled to keep quiet. He kissed the soft skin of her throat while her fingers raked through his thick curls, her cheek resting on his hair, delight and pleasure like she’d never known lighting her veins as they threw the mission and propriety out the window. She didn’t care – all she wanted was him.

Her mind was alight, his hands exploring her body as he thrust upwards, as she rutted her hips down, as he went deeper, ever deeper, filling her completely and entirely. He slipped one hand from under her skirts and teased her gown down over her breasts – cupping them softly, reverently resting his hand there before angling his head to kiss her there, too.

He rolled her nipples in between his fingers and when she moaned he laughed, just as huskily as she dreamt he would, and he nipped at her nipples now, kissing and sucking until she was brokenly whispering his name, trying to keep her voice down. He nipped at her breast and she all but collapsed, her arms tight around his neck, rolling with him in time as he paid her such careful attention she might as well have been a goddess to him, worthy of only the most divine attention.

He worked his way back up her throat, leaving a trail of kisses burned into her skin, the thick tense muscles of his thighs straining to keep the pace they both knew would soon be lost.

When she opened her eyes Fives was staring at her, hot and heady, and they could both feel her orgasm was close, and just like she’d wanted he didn’t let her come down easily, he didn’t let her come down at all, she shivered and turned loose-boned on top of him as she came on his cock and he choked on the sensation of it but never once took his eyes from her face, watching her experience her pleasure – and that’s what pushed him over the edge.

His grip on her body tightened, their hips were flush and melded together, he all but crushed her against his chest as his back arched almost clean off the couch and his breath strangled in his throat as he came with hard, sharp thrusts, deep inside of her, and Rabé couldn’t help but keen his name with pleasure as she rode him through his orgasm, too.

He held her there, tight, until he shuddered and collapsed; utterly, entirely spent.

She opened her eyes after a minute of quiet, panting silence, when the breeze from the open windows crept along their flushed bodies, and still, she did not let go of him. One hand cupped the back of his head, the other rested on the arm around her waist – a dead man’s grip – as his breath slowed, as her frantic heart calmed, and still, they did not let go of each other. They came down together in sweet silence, their muscles unclenching and relaxing, until she was utterly prone against his frame. She let a contented hum slip out of her throat as she nuzzled up under his chin.

Fives was panting, his hands hovering above her body like he was still wary of touching her, of over-stepping his bounds. His cheek rested against the top of her head, all the same. So Rabé shifted, sat up a little straighter – the pressure against him made him groan a little, under his breath – and kissed him softly, sweetly, gently.

She felt him smile shyly under her lips before he hungrily kissed her back.

“My room?”

He nodded, still unable to speak, staring at her like she was all of the stars in the sky.

She kissed his lips, and then his tattoo, and once more when he made a happy, disbelieving noise under her touch.

_My Fives._

She’d waited long enough for this night.

She was ready for more – and, judging by the look in his eyes, so was he.


End file.
